#those are all things i feel in my stomach and my head and my chest and my hands

[elliesbabygirl]

ch.003 ⇄ ch.004; Francesca - Hozier

"My life was a storm, since I was born"

my masterlist.

word count: 3.7k words

Series synopsis: friends with benefits, that's what ellie wanted. yet, she can't let you go, even after the messy'breakup' between the two of you

Warnings: swearing, mentions of fighting, scars, light use of y/n, + lots of fluff in the beginning. I think those are all the tags for this ch....(also not proof read)

was ch.003 fire or was it firee🔥🔥I'm so glad people liked ch. 003 as well, especially with all the love you guys have given the series so far. we're back to my regular schedule of updating, this week has been crazy hectic and has had me running around like a maniac with college! 😭 please enjoy ch.004 for now, ch. 005 is already (halfway) in the works as an apology for being so late with ch.004. !!

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting warm golden streaks across the sheets. The dorm apartment was quiet, the usual noise of campus life barely a hum in the distance. Everything felt slow, easy—like time didn’t exist here.

You stirred slightly, warmth pressing against your back, a strong arm draped lazily around your waist. Then—lips, soft and warm, trailing from your shoulder to the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring the feel of you.

A sleepy hum escaped your throat as Abby’s mouth lingered just below your ear. “Mm… morning,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, her lips brushing against your skin between words.

You shivered, eyes fluttering open as a lazy smile tugged at your lips. “Morning,” you murmured back, your voice still heavy with sleep.

Abby hummed in response, shifting slightly, pressing herself closer, her hand slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to rest against your stomach. Her fingers were warm, calloused from the gym, but her touch was impossibly gentle.

“You awake yet?” she mumbled against your neck, her lips moving slowly, teasingly.

You exhaled a soft laugh, tilting your head slightly to give her more access. “Not really.”

Abby grinned against your skin, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your jaw. “Good,” she murmured. “Means I get to wake you up properly.”

Her lips trailed lower, pressing lingering kisses down the side of your throat, her fingers tracing lazy circles against your stomach. Everything about her touch was unhurried, like she had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Your breath hitched slightly as she nipped at a particularly sensitive spot, and you felt her smirk against your skin.

“You always this needy in the morning?” you teased, your voice still groggy, but laced with amusement.

Abby huffed a soft laugh, tightening her grip around your waist. “Only for you.”

That made something warm settle in your chest.

It wasn’t official. It wasn’t labeled.

But it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

Abby’s kisses slowed, eventually settling into lazy, affectionate pecks against your shoulder as her arms tightened around your waist. Neither of you were in a rush to move, content in the warmth of the sheets and each other.

You sighed, stretching slightly before relaxing back into her hold. “Think we should make breakfast?”

Abby groaned dramatically, nuzzling into your neck. “That sounds like so much work.”

You laughed, reaching back to lazily run your fingers through her hair. “So, what? We just starve?”

Abby tilted her head, lips grazing your ear. “We could always stay in bed,” she teased, voice still thick with sleep.

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Tempting, but I’d rather not die of hunger.”

Abby exhaled heavily, like deciding on food was the hardest thing she’d ever done. “Fine, we’ll doordash.”

You grinned, turning slightly in her arms to face her. “Knew you’d cave.”

Abby gave you a playful glare before grabbing her phone off the nightstand. She scrolled lazily through the app, one arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me,” you murmured, resting your head against her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Abby hummed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before placing the order. “Alright, food’s on the way. Should be here in, like, twenty minutes.”

You exhaled in contentment, letting your eyes slip shut again. “Guess that means we have twenty more minutes to be lazy.”

Abby smirked, setting her phone down and wrapping both arms around you again, pulling you flush against her. “Best news I’ve heard all morning.”

The next twenty minutes passed in a blissful haze. You stayed curled up together, exchanging sleepy conversation between soft kisses, fingers tracing aimless patterns against each other’s skin. Abby played with your hair absentmindedly, her breathing slow and steady, like she could stay like this forever.

Then, a buzz from her phone broke the moment.

“Food’s here, baby" Abby murmured, but neither of you moved.

You groaned, burying your face against her chest. “I just got comfortable.”

Abby chuckled, rubbing slow circles against your back. “Guess you should’ve ordered after we got up, huh?”

You sighed dramatically before finally pulling away, stretching as you sat up. “I’ll get it,” you said, sliding out of bed. “You just stay here and be useless.”

Abby smirked, watching as you pulled on some sweats and grabbed your keys. “Oh, don’t worry—I fully plan on it.”

You rolled your eyes fondly before heading out the door, making your way downstairs to grab the food.

Still wrapped in the warmth of the morning, completely satisfied with you and Abby’s morning banter.

The elevator ride down to the main floor was quiet, the soft hum of the machinery the only thing filling the space. You pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself, still caught in the warmth of your morning with Abby, your mind far from anything that could ruin it.

The lobby was mostly empty, aside from a student lounging in the corner with their laptop and the delivery driver waiting near the front entrance. You approached, giving a polite nod as you grabbed the bag of food, barely paying attention—

Until you heard her voice.

“Shit.”

Your stomach twisted.

Slowly, you turned, and there she was.

Ellie.

She was standing near the other end of the pickup area, gripping a takeout bag of her own, looking like she had definitely not planned for this. Her hoodie was slightly wrinkled, dark circles sat heavy under her eyes, and for once, she looked genuinely caught off guard.

You stiffened, the weight of everything—the fight, the yelling, the humiliation—hitting you all over again.

Ellie swallowed, shifting awkwardly before clearing her throat. “Uh… hey.”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared, unsure of what to do.

Ellie exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Fuck, this is—uh, I wasn’t—” She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut for a second before forcing the words out. “Can I… can I talk to you? Just for a second?”

You inhaled.

She looked nervous, really nervous, like she was fully prepared for you to walk away.

And you could.

You didn’t owe her anything.

But instead, after a long pause, you sighed. “Fine.”

Ellie blinked, like she wasn’t expecting you to actually say yes. But she nodded quickly, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. “Okay. Yeah. Uh—outside?”

You hesitated before nodding, following her out through the glass doors. The morning air was crisp, the sun just beginning to warm the pavement. You crossed your arms, still gripping the bag of food, watching Ellie carefully.

She rocked on her heels, exhaling sharply before looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

You blinked.

Ellie ran a hand down her face, her jaw clenching like it was hard for her to get the words out. “For everything. For the fight, for ruining your night, for…” She hesitated, shaking her head. “For making you feel like shit.”

You stared at her, unreadable. “Why now?”

Ellie exhaled, her gaze flickering down before meeting yours again. “Because I should’ve done it sooner. Because I—” She stopped, huffing out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Because I couldn’t stand the idea of the last thing you ever heard from me being some jealous, fucked-up excuse for an argument.”

Something in your chest tightened.

Ellie shifted her weight, gripping the strap of her bag. “I was an asshole, I am an asshole. I let my shit get in the way and took it out on you, and I don’t—I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you deserve to hear me say that I know I fucked up.”

You swallowed, processing.

This was different, she was different.

There was no smugness, no anger, no deflection. Just… honesty.

Finally.

You stood there, gripping the bag of food a little too tightly, staring at Ellie like she was something you couldn’t quite figure out.

She looked… different.

Not just in the way she spoke, but in the way she stood—shoulders slightly hunched, like she was bracing for impact. Hands buried deep in the pockets of her wrinkled, oversized hoodie, her hair still a mess from what you guessed had been a sleepless night. She looked so small like this, so unlike the Ellie you once knew.

You weren’t sure what to say.

So you just kept staring, letting her words settle in.

Ellie shifted under your gaze, chewing the inside of her cheek like she wanted to say something else but didn’t know if she should.

Finally, after what felt like too long, you exhaled, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. “Can we… revisit this?” Your voice was quieter now, less guarded. “Like… after our psych lecture? Instead of going to class, we can just—talk.”

Ellie blinked, like she wasn’t expecting that. Then, too fast, she nodded—way too fast. “Yeah. Yes. Absolutely, whatever works for you.”

You sighed through your nose, shaking your head at her awkwardness, but didn’t comment on it. Instead, your gaze drifted slightly above, something else catching your attention.

Just above her brow.

A thin, faint scar was forming where the cut from her fight with Abby had been. It wasn’t big, but it was noticeable now that you were up close.

Your stomach twisted.

You hadn’t really looked at her since that night. Hadn’t let yourself.

But now, seeing the scar—knowing exactly how it got there—it reminded you of everything that had led to this moment.

Ellie caught the way your eyes lingered, her brows furrowing slightly before she reached up, brushing a finger over the healing wound. “Oh. Yeah,” she muttered, clearing her throat. “Guess I kinda deserved that one, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You just stared at her, your frown deepening ever so slightly.

Because as much as you wanted to pretend you didn’t care anymore—

Some small part of you still did.

You still hadn’t said anything. Just stared at the scar forming on Ellie’s brow, your fingers tightening slightly around the takeout bag.

Ellie shifted under the weight of your silence, exhaling sharply before awkwardly shrugging for a second time. “I mean… I did deserve it,” she muttered, trying to play it off. “Fucking up your date and all, Abby had every right to knock me on my ass.”

Her lips quirked like she was going to try for a smirk, but it didn’t quite land.

You finally blinked, shaking yourself from your thoughts as Ellie rubbed the back of her neck, glancing off to the side. “Dina kinda, uh… talked some sense into me after that night,” she admitted, voice low, like she didn’t want to say it but knew she had to. “Told me to quit acting like a fucking idiot and actually apologize instead of, y’know… making everything worse.”

You huffed a quiet laugh through your nose, shaking your head. “Sounds like Dina.”

Ellie let out a breathy chuckle, glancing at you briefly before shifting on her feet. Then, hesitantly, she rubbed the back of her neck again and cleared her throat. “Listen, uh—about that talk…” She hesitated, like she was debating whether she should ask at all, then forced the words out anyway. “Can we—not do it after psych?.

You tilted your head slightly. “You wanna skip class twice just to talk?”

Ellie huffed, looking mildly embarrassed. “I mean… yeah. I don’t wanna half-ass it between lectures, y’know?”

You studied her for a moment before nodding wordlessly, pressing your lips together in thought. “I’ll text you where to meet later this week,” you muttered, shifting your grip on the food bag.

Ellie straightened slightly, looking a little less tense, nodding too quickly again. “Yeah. Cool, sounds good.”

An awkward silence stretched between you both.

You swallowed, glancing back towards the door. “I should get back.”

Ellie nodded again, hands still shoved deep in her hoodie pocket. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

You hesitated for half a second before turning towards the door, pushing it open without another word.

Ellie exhaled once you were gone, running both hands down her face, her heart still hammering like she had just survived a near-death experience.

Because even though she knew this talk wouldn’t fix everything—

At least now, she had a chance to try.

The walk back up to your dorm felt longer than it should have. Your mind was still caught on the conversation, on the way Ellie looked—nervous, fidgety, not herself. It was strange seeing her like that, like she was holding back from saying more.

But you pushed it aside, exhaling as you reached your door and unlocked it.

Abby was still in bed when you stepped inside, propped up against the pillows, scrolling through her phone. The second she saw you, she smirked. “Took you long enough, thought I was gonna starve to death.”

You rolled your eyes, setting the bag down on the desk before kicking off your slippers. “Yeah, yeah. Dramatic.”

Abby sat up fully, stretching her arms over her head. “Everything good?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “Ran into Ellie downstairs.”

That made Abby pause.

You could feel her eyes on you, but you kept your focus on unpacking the food. “It wasn’t anything serious,” you added quickly. “She just… apologized.”

Abby was quiet for a second, then hummed. “Huh.”

That was it. No snarky comment, no irritation, just that.

You glanced over at her, raising a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”

Abby laughed, grabbing the takeout container you handed her. “What, you want me to throw a fit about it?”

You sighed, shaking your head before plopping onto the couch. “No. Just… wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”

Abby grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it over the both of you before settling in beside you, peeling open the styrofoam lid. “Not my business,” she said simply, spearing a fork into her pancakes. “Long as you’re okay.”

Something about the way she said it made your chest warm.

You smiled softly before digging into your own food, cutting into the fluffy stack of waffles, the scent of syrup and butter filling the room. Abby grabbed the remote, flicking through the streaming options before settling on Juno.

“Good?” she asked, glancing at you.

You nodded, shifting to lean against her shoulder. “Yeah, haven’t seen it in a while.”

Abby hummed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before focusing on the screen.

And just like that, the morning settled into something soft, something easy.

No tension, no stress. Just you, Abby, and the quiet comfort of a lazy Saturday.

The IHOP was quiet for a weekday evening, the low hum of conversation filling the space around you. The scent of syrup and freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air, the overhead lights casting a soft, yellow glow over the laminated menus and worn leather booths.

Ellie sat across from you, fidgeting.

She had been fine when you both walked in—casual, even. But now that the waiter had taken your orders and left, the silence between you grew heavier, and Ellie looked like she felt it.

Her leg bounced under the table, her fingers picking at the hem of her hoodie, twisting the fabric between them.

You sighed, resting your elbow on the table. “Ellie.”

Her head snapped up, green eyes slightly wide, like she had been too caught up in her own head to realize she had been acting weird.

You tilted your head. “You had a plan for this, didn’t you?”

Ellie exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah,” she admitted, cracked lips pressing together. “And now I can’t remember a single fucking word of it.”

You sighed, leaning back into the booth. “That’s because you’re overthinking it.”

Ellie let out a dry, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “No shit.”

She hesitated, fingers drumming against the table, before she finally forced herself to meet your eyes again. “I just… I don’t wanna fuck this up more than I already have.”

Something in her voice was softer than before, more careful.

And for the first time since ever, it felt like she was actually trying.

Ellie sighed, rolling her shoulders like she was trying to physically shake off the tension weighing her down. Her hands wrapped around the ceramic mug of coffee in front of her, fingers twitching like she wanted to pick at her nails but was consciously stopping herself.

You recognized it immediately.

It was an old habit, one you hadn’t thought about in a long time—something Ellie always did when she was overwhelmed but trying to keep it together.

You exhaled softly, glancing away, giving her the space to work through it, to start when she was ready.

Ellie cleared her throat, eyes flickering to the window before back down at her coffee. “I guess, uh… I should just pick up from where we left off the other day,” she muttered, tapping her fingers against the rim of the cup.

You nodded wordlessly, waiting.

Ellie inhaled through her nose, shifting in her seat. “Right, so—about the fight, about everything that happened outside your dorm…” She trailed off, huffing, rubbing a hand over her mouth before shaking her head. “I was a fucking idiot.”

You raised a brow, but stayed quiet, letting her go on.

Ellie let out a breathy chuckle, humorless. “Like, I knew I was being an idiot in the moment, but I still didn’t stop myself. I was high, I was pissed off, and I didn’t think—I just reacted. And, fuck, I made you deal with that. With me, and you shouldn’t have had to.”

Her fingers tightened around the mug, jaw clenching. “I don’t even know if there’s a way to actually fix things, but… I do know I don’t wanna leave things the way they are.”

She looked up at you then, her expression guilty, serious.

And for the first time since the fight, you actually believed her.

Ellie exhaled sharply, her fingers drumming against the coffee cup as she collected her thoughts. She wasn’t used to this—actually talking about her feelings, laying them out like this without deflecting, without making some stupid joke to avoid the weight of it all.

But you were sitting there, waiting, listening. And for the first time in a long time, Ellie wanted to get it right.

She inhaled through her nose, gripping the cup a little tighter. “I don’t know how to say this shit right,” she admitted, shaking her head. “I’ve never been good at it. Even when we were together. I—I was never comfortable in my own fucking skin, let alone my emotions, and I know you noticed it back then. I just… ignored it. I ignored you when you tried to talk to me about it. I thought if I just—kept shit casual, kept my walls up, it wouldn’t matter.”

She let out a dry chuckle. “Turns out, it does matter, and I was a fucking idiot to pretend it didn’t.”

You swallowed, staying quiet, letting her keep going.

Ellie exhaled, rubbing her palm over her mouth before resting her elbow on the table, fingers threading through her hair. “Dina’s been on my ass ever since that night,” she admitted, lips twitching slightly. “I mean, she should be. She told me I was being a fucking coward, that I didn’t just lose you because I ‘wasn’t the relationship type’ or whatever bullshit excuse I kept telling myself.”

She hesitated, then huffed. “I lost you because I was scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but still, you didn’t speak.

Ellie finally looked up, eyes sharp but sincere. “And I fucking hate that it took me losing you to realize what I actually felt for you, but that’s the truth. And I don’t expect you to forgive me for any of it, I don’t expect you to just—take me back or let me fix this overnight.”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “But I am gonna try, and this time, I’m gonna do it the right way.”

Her voice was steadier now, firmer. “No more tough guy act, no more hiding behind jokes and pretending I don’t care.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto yours, something raw and open in them. “I do care. I always have, and if you give me the chance, I’m gonna prove it to you.”

The words settled between you, heavy but honest. Ellie wasn’t just saying it—she meant it.

You didn’t know what to say.

Your mouth was slightly open, your eyes wide, just staring at Ellie as you tried to process everything she had laid out in front of you.

The words were still hanging between you, raw and real, and for the first time, Ellie wasn’t hiding behind her usual bullshit. No deflections, no jokes—just her, stripped bare, admitting things you never thought she would.

Before you could even attempt to respond, the waitress returned, setting your plates down without a second glance and walking away.

The smell of syrup and butter filled the air, but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch your food.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say?

You had just gotten comfortable with Abby. Sure, neither of you had labeled it, but the way things had been—sleeping in the same bed, kissing each other awake in the mornings, lazy weekend breakfasts spent tangled up together—it felt like something real.

And now Ellie was sitting across from you, saying she wanted to fight for you.

What did that even mean?

Were you supposed to just ignore what you had with Abby? Were you supposed to believe that Ellie had actually changed?

Your fingers gripped the edge of the table, anxiety creeping up your spine as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

You wanted to bring Abby up, wanted to say something about her, about how you’d moved on, about how you weren’t just sitting around waiting for Ellie to figure herself out.

But you didn’t.

“I miss you,” Ellie admitted, barely above a whisper. Her eyes flickered to yours before dropping back down, like she couldn’t handle looking at you for too long. “I miss waking up next to you, hearing you laugh at my stupid jokes, just… being around you.” She swallowed hard, her fingers tugging absentmindedly at her cuticles. “And I know I have no right to ask for that back, not after everything. But I—” She sighed, shaking her head. “I wish it was still me.”

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

Author's note: I'm so sorry if this feels lackluster, but I promise y'all that this ch. is needed in order for everything to click into place😭 💔

TAGLIST: @liasxeatt @vahnilla @sleepingwasp @morticeras @violetszn @eriiwaii @elliesactualgirlfriend @mikellie @lovely-wisteria @idletyouruinme @losing-it-lately @robinphobia @sexlus

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!!

[acexsmhking]

Okay hear me out. Ticci toby x chubby reader (AFAB) because you said in the pregnancy hcs that he liked the weight gain..

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toby x Chubby!Reader

Note: YES YES YES YES. PLS GUYS ASK FOR MY CHUBBY CONTENT I BEG, remember that you can of course always ask for other things but my account I do right with more POC! and Chubby! readers in mind!

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, mentions of cannibalism

No no no… y’all don’t understand. Tobias LOVES thicker people

Yes it is a romantical attraction but.. I can promise you that he also thinks about eating you sometimes. His biting with you WORSEN… HORRIFICALLY.

He is biting your stomach, arms and thighs whenever he sees a window of opportunity. He is ADDICTED to how it feels. He tries to be mindful of your space and potential insecurities.. but this is Tobias.. he has a tendency to do his OWN thing when HE wants.

And when I tell you he has his mittens on you 24/7 whenever he’s home. I mean it. Hands on your hips, squeezing and massaging them. Forcing your ass against him even when you’re doing mundane things like washing dishes or cooking a meal.

Face in your neck, cock hardening as he subconsciously grinding against you. Practically growing into a feverish humping, causing a whine to leave your lips and you try pushing him away to focus on the task at hand.

Of course, he doesn’t listen, not wholly. His teeth already digging into the fat of your neck, ensuring to keep you close against him. A clear warning, and you knew better than to disobey

God and the cuddling, it’s horrible. He’s firmly holding one of your tits with his other arm holding the chub on your belly. Now, you might think this is reason to perhaps feel insecure? That those voices in your head might start going off. Ney my good fellow… when Tobias’s hand are on your stomach??

Your biggest concern are surprise tickle attacks. And Toby is NOT a fun tickler. He tickles you for HIS enjoyment. Which means sometimes he can go for a bit too long til the point it hurts.

God but when you wear something form fitting? Especially a dress… he practically yanks it off like unwrapping a Christmas present.

Now.. since sometimes looking at you can make him.. hungry. The salvia can get worse, he’ll literally be drooling over you. Loves folding you just to see those pretty, delicious, rolls on you.

“Mein L-lamm, du siehst so süß aus.” Giggling to himself, hands under your knees pressing your legs to your head. Cock buried in your warm cunt, slobber dripping creating a mess on your abdomen and chest.

Absolutely adores eating you out, when you’ve got that soft meaty flesh on your thighs? Loves it 100x more. All sorts of kiss, bite and hickey marks on your legs. Covered in spit, inner thigh covered in a bit of your cum.

And as Toby is, always so mean about it. Teasing you, playing with you. “What’s wrong whore? Can’t take anymore? Oh, aber du wirst nehmen, was auch immer ich dir gebe.” Chapped lips wrapping around your clit and giving you a hard suck, finger curling at that perfect spot in your cunt.

Not even to mention how much he loves having you in his lap. Toby is still strong, and he’s bigger than a lot of people think. However, physical having you on him, weighing him down. It is so reassuring. He knows where you are, that you’re safe and right next to him.

He loves laying on you too, directly on top of you. And trust me.. 165 lbs might not seem heavy until it’s nothing but muscle that’s deadweight on top of you.

Yeah you start feeling to air leaving your lungs. “My dear.. I need you up for a minute!” Hands patting his back, wiggling under him. “No, I think I’ll ju-uh-st crawl inside you instead.” Trust.. he would if he could.

THE ASS SMACKING. Doesn’t matter how much or how little you have back there. Toby simply just smacks ass. Smack his back and he’ll just blush and giggles. He doesn’t work so hard to look good for you for no reason!!

Loves how insecure you get. You can think whatever you want in your head but he loves the reality that he’s still able to chase you, pin you down and do whatever he wants. No matter what, just remember who and what he is.

You know the saying you gain weight from love?? Yeah that’s 100% true with Toby. He loves feeding you. Tobias himself loves eating, loves chewing. And loves tearing things apart. So of course, what better way to bond than sharing hobbies!

He’ll bring you all sorts of fruits, vegetables, meats, pastas and yummy desserts. Just remember to watch him, Tobias can’t feel how full he gets so just make sure he doesn’t overeat. He will throw up and the acid can be a bit irritating to his gnash

Of course, while Tobias does love chub. He always monitors your health. He makes sure you never become overweight, in subtle ways though. He’ll take you for walks, showing you cute and beautiful places. Do cute couple workouts (ok yeah that one is more of a self indulgence he just likes you around 24/7).

Toby loves his little Lamm to be however they are though. He isn’t one to body shame (he does just not you because other people are simply ugly and you are the most perfectest perfect to ever be)

: ̗̀➛ Sorry this took me so long to get out. My cycle is genuinely kicking my ass this time around. But I promise I have content in the works, just bear with me, my loves <3. — Ace

[a2006love]

if you think of giving up: told in a short story.

"park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" but it's not about your loved ones in your dr. it's not about shifting. it's not even about an alternate version of life. it's about you. yes, you. the one here and now. the one with the awareness.

it's about the dreams you've left behind, the quiet betrayals, the tiny funerals you didn't even realize you were attending. you tell yourself you don’t need them. you tell yourself you've grown up. that was then, and now it's different. you think about the way you once held them so close, entertaining them all day till you succumb to sleep, and you pretend the memory doesn’t make something inside you coil with longing—but then, just as you're lost in those thoughts, you're pulled back into reality. where you're standing at a fair, and a child comes up to you and tugs at your sleeve.

"do you know where my mom is?"

you turn, and there’s a little kid, red-eyed, breath hitching in their chest. their face is messy with tears, and their tiny hands are trembling. you kneel, instinctively, lowering to their level, and you soften your voice, in an attempt to make them feel safe.

"you're okay, i'll help you, we'll find her, i promise."

but they only cry harder. their words come out in a way that's impossible to untangle. they're just a kid after all, panic swallows them whole and they can't explain what's going on, where they lost her, what exactly happened that made them lose her, and to top it all off they don't even have the words for it, they only know what it feels like, the way fear spreads itself in their chest, the way the world suddenly seems too big and too loud and too much.

and you—you have no idea what to do. you don't know how to fix this. you don't know the kid, at least, not really. the situation seems bigger than either of you, but you do know that you won't leave them here, that you will take their hand and hold it tight, that you will put them on your shoulders and search through every inch of this place until you find their mom.

except—they stop crying. and they lift their head to look at you, really look at you, with something in their expression, something you can't quite understand, like they know something, and that makes your stomach drop before they even open their mouth.

"you left me here."

the words don't make sense. they confuse you and ring in your head like a thousand church bells, and then the sound disappears. everything else is still moving, the ferris wheel is still spinning, the rainbow lights are still flashing, the music is still playing—but you don't hear any of it anymore.

"what?" you whisper, but you already know the answer.

they squeeze your hand tighter, like they're afraid once they repeat themselves you'll let go and leave again. their lips are shaking, and their voice is much more quieter now, but it cuts through you like a sharp and sudden scream.

"you left me here."

and suddenly, you remember. you remember the way you used to dream. the way you swore you'd never let go of the things that made your heart feel so big, the way you promised yourself you wouldn't become this—this version of you that makes these sensible choices, that trades joy for survival and tells themselves it's just what 'growing up' means, and it's just 'the way life is.'

the kid is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. and in that moment, you realize—it's not just any kid standing in front of you. it's you. the part of you that you've buried, the part that's still waiting for answers, for someone to care enough. that kid is the version of you you left behind, the one you've been avoiding all this time.

go help them. don't look at me or anyone else. go help them. they asked you. not me, not anybody around. they saw you in this suffocating crowd and felt the safest with you, so they approached you, they wouldn't choose anyone else in this world.

either you take them by the hand, or they're going to keep following you around, pulling at your sleeve, each time harder than the last, sobbing so loudly it bangs in your eardrums, waking you up in the middle of the night with questions you're too tired to answer.

and i want you to think of your choice to ignore them as saying "i promise we'll find her" and then leading them into the fair, distracting them by pointing out other kids playing and shouting "hey! this looks fun!", buying them cotton candy, hoping it'll make them forget about the ache in their chest.

and maybe, for a while, it works. maybe they smile, maybe they even laugh, maybe you convince yourself that they've forgotten what they were crying about.

but the knot is still in their throat. the tears haven't dried. the softness of their mother's hands still lingers on their cheeks. and it won't ever leave.

they'll pretend to forget, but you won't. they'll let go of your hand, but you'll still feel the tightness of their grip, years later, in your happiest moments, in every mirror, in dreams where you catch a glimpse of them just before you wake up to face reality.

and you'll always come back to them. so choose, now, to do something about it, and that choice better be to help them find their mom. (home.)

[csilla0issa]

ran to tumblr when I heard this again ᕠ( ᐛ )و

—————————————————————————

TOJI FUSHIGURO

tied him down to my queen bed, tease him just enough to hate me

︴tw: dom/reader, sub!toji, overstimulation, small bit of dacryphilia, mention of bondage, toji is smitten

⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊ᰔ

Toji didn't remember how he ended up here, under you and your tortuous hand on his aching cock while you straddled him, his hands tied up with a random pair of panties that you had in your drawer and the only thing you had to do so. Though to your dismay,he tore the fabric later on.

All he remembers is watching a movie with you in matching pajamas that you bought for you and him, then a slow, heavy makeout and teasing you all he wanted. You had decided you had enough and took it in your own hands, quite literally.

He was bare, his clothes discarded on the floor and you still, surprisingly so, had a decent amount of clothes on, wearing that white tanktop that Toji loved so much, the fabric hugging your curves in all the right places and those baby pink pair of panties with white lace and a tiny, cute satin bow. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead as hot, heavy breaths escaped his parted, swollen lips.

"C’mon, give me another one, baby." You cooed, your voice so distinctively sweet that he thought you were actually going to give him a break.

You've been stroking at his cock for almost two hours, a sticky mess painted all over your hands and his stomach— just a tiny bit on his chest when he shot his warm load practically all over himself— and hot tears cascading down his flushed cheeks. You haven't stopped at all, praising him so sweetly, caressing your thumb over his angry red tip and pumping at his shaft until he came all over your hand for the umpteenth time.

He was literally sobbing at this point, begging for a break and the tips of his ears were red, showing that he was embarrassed yet failed to fight back. His wrists were free, why wasn't he pushing you back onto the bed and rutting his hips into you over and over again until you squirted all over his cock? He thought. As desperate as he was to deny it, he loved the feel of your soft hands wrapped around him, pulling every release from him and falling to your every whim and praise.

"Fuck- I'm t-trying." His head fell back against the pillow, his eyes shut tight to escape your amused gaze.

He was so close too, wanting to give you what you wanted but the overstimulation was clawing at his skin, keeping him from an almost painful orgasm but the gentle strokes over his tip made him bust on the spot. Your gentle murmurs of ‘mm, yeah that's it’ and ‘so good for me’ was driving him crazy, almost to a second orgasm as you continued to jerk him off

More tears left his eyes, groans and protests flying past his lips as you softly kissed his tears and slowed down a little but didn't stop. "Sweetheart, doll, please!"

He was begging now, and he— wait a minute. Was that a whimper?

He bit his lip immediately, keeping any more groans or pathetic moans from coming out as he tried to writhe away from your grip. You were grinning, giggling at his current state yet you couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Your boyfriend had come home from a long day out, in need of some time with you, and now you were here overstimulating him to tears.

Your hand had stopped it's continuous up and down motions, finally coming to a stop as you gently released his cock, a soft plap sound coming from the gentle hit of his dick against his abdomen. You carefully got up from the bed, getting a few tissues and cleaning up his torso and being gentle around his spent cock, finally cleaning up your hands and throwing the tissues into a trash bin and laying beside him on the bed.

He was breathing heavily, clearly still embarrassed and not surprisingly had enough energy to roll over, pull you close, and pull the blankets over the two of you— he had crazy stamina, so it surprised you enough that he hadn't done something about your little stunt already.

He was warm too, void of any sweat from earlier due to the fan that was currently on near the end corner of the bed— you sweat a lot sometimes during sleep, and he had gotten worried enough to buy a fan and keep it just for you, and he so adorably denied that he did it just for you— as he nuzzled his face into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent.

"You whimpered." You snickered, grinning once again.

"Shut it."

"Admit it!"

"No." He sighed.

"Then I'll do it again."

"I did not whimper."

You giggled and kissed his cheek, still smiling. "Fine, fine. Love you."

The tips of his ears were red again as he grumbled, his beefy arms gently wrapped around you. "M’love you more." He murmured against your neck, finally closing his eyes and getting his much needed rest

⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊⚊ᰔ A/N: omg I know I said I would get it done in a little but plz forgive me I got busy again 🙏

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Do Something To Me 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, manipulation, roughness, degredation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (modern)

Summary: you do your best to please a man with high standards.

Note: wasn't expecting this tbh.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The knock echoes through the house. You can't help the shiver as you peer over your shoulder. You know there's nothing there but those old antique halls always put you on edge. Or maybe it's him.

No, you love your husband. That's not it. He can just be very intense. That's all.

You wait. No answer comes. That's as usual as the silence throughout this old house. You tap once more and upon a second lull, let yourself in.

You don't say a word as Sherlock's eyes stay on the folder clutched in his large hands. He looks like a man out of time. He always dresses proper. You gently place the tray on his desk.

You pour him a cup and carefully add milk. The dairy plumes in the deep red tea and you place the saucer and cup by his elbow.

"You've interrupted," he says without looking up.

"You wanted tea and I did not want it to go cold," you touch his shoulder gently. He rumbles.

"Wise woman," he muses and sits back, his attention still on the page. He hooks a single finger through cup handle and lifts it. He hums. "The only who ever does my tea right."

Loose leaf. That's the trick. Your ratio is precise. Just as he likes all things.

"Let me not disturb you further," you appease and back up.

He huffs and drops the paper, then clinks down the porcelain.

"I wouldn't complain," he leans back in his leather chair. He smirks.

"Oh, and now he demands dessert with his tea," you shake your head.

He tilts his head, "I demand my wife."

A chill runs up your body. When he puts that voice on, your chest goes hollow and you feel all shaky. You can't deny that voice.

"Yes, husband," you come closer.

He runs his hand up your satin skirt and examines the seam. There's a stitch that's bunched. He never misses the detail. He clucks.

"This skirt is ruined," he tugs, "you will take it off at once."

It would be thrilling if you didn't know beneath it all that he's serious. He does not like inconsistencies. You suppose it is the reason he chose to be a detective. That and he's very skilled at untangling mysteries. As talented at seeing through deception.

You reach behind you and unzip the skirt. It slackens and you let it go. It pools at your feet and your legs speckle with goosebumps. These vintage houses are hard to keep warm. He has the thermostat as well to keep from waste.

"Come here," he urges as he spreads his shoulders wide. 

He grips the arms of the chair as you approach. You stop to strip off your panties. His chest rises and falls slowly as he sits patiently. You know what to do and it's better you don't make him tell you.

He's already hard, you can see him in his pants. You undo his fly and pull him out. He growls and holds the air in his chest. You turn and reach between your legs to line him up.

You press him against your folds and rub his tip against you. You try to focus and ready yourself for him. You take him inch by inch, urging yourself through the stretch. As you settle on his lap, he sighs.

"Mm, honey," he purrs.

You go to tilt and he grabs your hip, his other hand on your stomach.

"No, you will wait," he girds and reaches to the desk. He retrieves the paper. "When I've finished my work, you may finish yours."

You wiggle in his lap. He groans and pinches your thigh. You still and lean back, certain to keep out of his way.

He pets your head with his free hand as he reads. Little hums escape him. You feel him twitching inside you. He sets down the paper once more.

"My tea, honey."

You lean forward and quiver at the friction in your walls. You take his tea and give it to him. He drinks deeply and hands it back. You put it down and he frames your hips.

"Perhaps I might think better if I destress," he guides you up his length and you moan.

You place your hands over his as he moves you in his lap. You arch your back and follow his rhythm. You slip your hand down your pelvis and twirl around your clit. He grunts as he keeps the pace slow and deliberate.

"Mm, I've needed this," he growls. "Mm, yes, my wife, how you serve me so well."

You flick your fingers and tremble, your walls clenching as you get close to release. You reach back and clasp onto his thick side as you cum. As you spasm, he quickens your motion. You mewl through your climax as your head lolls.

In a moment, he's up. He has you over the desk. Your hips slam into the edge as he bends over you and grips the far side. He rams into you, each thrust long but sharp. He pulls back only to slam so hard the wood sends a pang through your pelvis. You whimper as the contents of his desk wobble and pens fall of their stand.

"You did this on purpose, yes? You interrupted my work for this?" He gropes your ass, his pelvis slapping the back of his hand as he ruts. "My wife, the whore."

He grabs the back of your neck and pinches until you squeal. You gnaw on your lip and hiss through your nose. That side of him is only yours. That deep, dark, feral side. He only lets you see it. It scares you but it feels special. It's just between you two.

"Yes, husband," you reach back and touch his pants as he pounds your hips into the desk. "I wanted this all along--"

You grit your teeth and your back racks. You measure your breaths as he puffs like a wild animal. His nails dig into your skin and your thighs tingle.

"I know it. You want it," he snarls. "You need it."

[rafescherie]

after your encounter with pogue!rafe, he can't get you off his mind. deciding to settle things once and for all, he shows up to your house, unannounced, to try to resolve everything.

salt in the sugar bowl miniseries | part one - part two - you are currently on part three |

cherie's note — this series was so much fun to write (◜ᴗ◝). while this is the end to the miniseries, i will continue to write and accept requests for pogue!rafe. thank you for all the love!

you knew he was there before you saw him.

the air outside was too still, too thick. the kind of quiet that wasn't really quiet at all — like something waiting to be shattered.

and then, like clockwork, you spotted him.

parked across the street, beside your own vehicle, he leaned against the side of his truck, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. the shadows made a mess of him, carving out sharp edges and dark hollows, but you could recognize him from anywhere.

rafe cameron.

his face, illuminated now by the amber orange hue from the fire burning his stick, he was watching you. as if it wasn't bad enough you could feel it from where you stood, meters away, his eyes were dark as he watched you approach your vehicle.

you inhaled through your nose, exhaled slow.

you weren't going to stop. you weren't going to ask why he was here. that was the game, wasn't it? ignore him, pretend it doesn't make your heart stutter, pretend like something in you doesn't still recognize him even now, even despite unnerving presence inside of your usually quiet neighborhood.

you moved toward you car, he moved too.

just a step forward, nothing more. a shift in weight, an acknowledgement, the kind of silent understanding that made your pulse flicker.

your grip on your keys tightened. "waiting for someone?'

he exhaled slow, the smoke leaving his lips in a lazy stream. "yeah."

your stomach twisted, though you knew the answer before you even asked. "...who?"

his eyes flicked up to meet yours. steady. heavy.

"you."

his voice sent something cold curling down your spine, but you didn't let it show. instead, you gripped your keys a little tighter, tilting your head. "if you've got something to say, just say it."

"got nothing to say, sweetheart." he replies, his lips connecting with the cigarette once more, the inhale of smoke sharp in the air.

you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head in disbelief as you pulled open your car door. "well, you're parked outside my house like a fucking stalker, so yeah, maybe you do."

there's a beat of silence between you now. the air is thick with the stench of cigarettes, a habit you had worked so hard to help him get over when you were still together, now down the drain it seemed. that wasn't your concern anymore — respectfully, none of your business.

"your boyfriend doesn't pick you up?" he questions, pressing the cigarette against his lips.

"he doesn't have a truck," you speak over a whisper, turning your attention away. "besides, wasn't a good match. i haven't spoken to him in days."

relief washes over his tense body, the first good news in weeks. despite the words shocking any other normal person, rafe feels a sense of encouragement take place within his brain, suddenly at ease.

he clears his throat, "look we... we need to talk about what... what happened."

you cross your arms over your chest, staring at the man with those same curious, doe-eyes he had fallen in love with so many weeks ago.

"i have somewhere i need to be, rafe." you sigh out. his timing always seemed to be impeccable, truly.

he studied you for a second too long, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing something. the forced laugh that he exerts at the bluntness makes your pulse quicken, the scuffing sounds of his boot louder in the mess of tension.

"nah," he starts, rubbing his jaw, "y'not going anywhere for a bit, 'least not till i'm done talking with you."

you swallow hard. instead, you stand there, hovering in the small space between your car and the door, like a deer caught in the headlights.

"if you came here to play games, rafe, i don’t have time for it." you retort.

the corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't smile. a sharp exhale falls from his nose, fingers digging frustratingly into the palm of his own hands.

"y'think i came here to play?"

something in the way he said it made your breath catch.

your own fingers twitched around your keys, "what else would it be?"

his jaw ticked, and before you could take another breath, he took a step closer. not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you suddenly felt suffocating.

"you really think i'd waste my time if i didn't need to see you?"

his words knocked the wind out of you more than you wanted to admit.

you inhaled, gaze flickering away — anywhere but his eyes. "you don't need anything from me, rafe."

"that right?" his voice was lower now, quieter, like he was testing the waters.

you didn't answer. the silence lingered in the air for far too long, neither of you daring to utter another word into the late night wind.

because the way he was looking at you — like he was trying to memorize every inch of you, like he was still trying to find the parts of himself he'd left in you — made your throat tighten.

his tongue darted out to wet his lips before he spoke again, "could've gone anywhere tonight," he chuckles dryly, "but i'm here."

"i don't know what you want me to say, ray."

he shakes his head lightly in disbelief, "don't need to say anything, angel. just need you to listen." his eyes meet yours again, searching for something — anything, familiar within them. "can you do that for me? or are you still pretending you don't care?"

you didn't want to accept — he had broken your heart once before, shamelessly at that, you didn't want to give him the opportunity to do it again. the last thing you wanted was for this man you loved so deeply to get your hopes up once more, just to completely break it all down in the end.

he takes your silence as approval, resting his hand on the open car door. there's hardly space between you now, the only divider being the metal car door you teeter inside of — the same car that had started all of this in the first place.

you were too good to him. even he can't fathom how good you are to him — despite all the shit he had put you through the last few weeks, here you were, waiting patiently for him to speak. you knew better, but curiosity got the best of you, like it always had.

he takes a deep breath, the air around him growing heavy with tension. "i shouldn't... i shouldn't have ended things the way i did."

oh?

not what you had expected to hear, but nonetheless, your heart skips a beat, your stomach twisting once more.

"what... what do you mean?" you question, unsure of yourself — timid.

his heart was racing as he watched you process what he had said. he wanted to keep going, wanted to just keep speaking and let it all out, but his mind went blank, and he found himself hesitating, trying to find the words.

rafe had never grown up in an environment where talking about your feelings was encouraged — not in a healthy way, calm and collected, like this conversation. nights spent listening to his parents argue had trained his young brain to become explosive, like his father. but he wanted to do better, he needed to do better — for you.

"i uh..." his voice broke slightly, "i mean... i made a mistake."

"a mistake?" you echo back, tilting your head to look at him, a puzzled look on your face.

he let out a slow sigh, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before flickering away again as he tried to get the words out.

"breaking up with you." he finally managed to confess, his voice gruff. "ending things. it was a mistake."

for the first time tonight, you're speechless. truly, speechless.

rafe didn't do apologies, or even admit he was wrong. his stubbornness and hotheadedness was an inherent trait of his personality — so it was beyond confusing to see him standing here, admitting he had fucked up.

he knew he had to keep going, he had to keep talking. now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself — and you didn't want him to. this had been the most clarity you had gotten in weeks.

"i shouldn't have ended it without talking to you," he continued, his jaw clenching. "should've just... tried to explain... instead i just..." his voice trails off as the guilt washes over him. he hated himself for the way he handled it, hated that he had made you think he didn't want you.

that was far from the truth. for the first time since being cut off from his cushioned life, living with his father, he had seen a purpose. a reason to keep going, despite the trouble, and the constant stress.

he shakes his head, dragging a hand against his short buzzed hair before continuing. "i didn't... i didn't want to end things, alright? just... just didn't know what else to do..."

you let out a shaky sigh, the words sending your stomach snapping at the confession.

the words settle between you, heavy and raw. the weight of his locutions settle like an invisible force. he watches you swallow, watching you blink up at him as if deciding whether or not to let him back in — whether or not to believe him.

the moonlight casts a silvery glow over your features, making you look almost unreal, like something out of a dream. or, maybe a memory — one he's spent too many nights trying to forget, only to end up right back here, drawn to you like the tide to the shore.

rafe exhales, staring at the girl before him like she might disappear if he blinks. you stand there, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, like you were holding something together. maybe your resolve. maybe your heart. maybe it was both. he swears he tried. tried to stay gone. tried to convince himself that you were better off. but the second he saw you again, walking into his auto shop, bounding in like nothing had changed, all the pretending fell apart.

the silence stretches, the night air thick with something fragile. then, finally, you exhale, shoulders slumping. like a weight released from your shoulders, the confession breaks down something within yourself — something that had been stirring for weeks.

"rafe..." his name is barely a whisper, but it's enough to make his heart stutter.

it wasn't an invitation. not yet. but it's not rejection either.

"i mean it," he says, voice steadier this time. "i tried staying away. i thought it'd be better for you. but i can't-" he shakes his head, stepping closer, blue eyes never leaving yours. "i can't do this without you."

your hand lingers against his chest, right over his heart, and he knows you can feel it hammering beneath your palm. you could pull away. you could walk away. and maybe, you should have. but you don't. instead, you stand there, watching him like you're searching for something — proof, maybe, this time is different. that he's different.

"you hurt me," you whisper.

he lifts a hand, hesitating before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers barely brushing against your sensitive skin. "i know."

your gaze snaps back to his. there's hesitation in your eyes, a guarded look he's never seen before — not from you. and god, it guts him.

another pause, then, softer, "don't do it again."

his heart stutters. when he looks at you, you're already watching him the same way he's watching you — like you're terrified, but hope is seeping in around the edges.

he nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "i won't."

your breath hitches, and for a long moment, neither of you move. slowly, you close your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

and he begins to wonders what he could have possibly done in his past life that would merit meeting a girl like you, someone so sweet and gentle with him, despite all the turmoil.

and for the first time in a long time, rafe feels like maybe — just maybe — he's found his way back.

taglist — @maybankslover , @fastlovela

[meadowfics]

little sibling

park gyeong-seok x pregnant!reader

the both of you tell na-yeon that she will be an older sister

you’ve always been healthy, rarely catching a cold, never needing more than a day to shake off any sickness. lately, something has felt different.

all exhaustion has lingered in your bones, nausea creeps up at the worst times, and dizziness makes the world tilt when you stand too fast.

at first, you chalk it up to stress, maybe even something viral, but when the symptoms persist, you finally go to the doctor.

the moment they tell you, your mind blanks. pregnant.

the word feels too big, too surreal. you sit there, wide-eyed, hands pressing against your stomach as if waiting to feel something different.

the doctor hands you a list of prenatals, recommends rest, but all you can think about is how you’re going to tell gyeong-seok.

he’s been through so much already. raising na-yeon alone, watching her fight through cancer, standing by her side every second of the way.

you came into their lives when na-yeon was still healing, still learning how to be a child after spending so much of her early years in hospital rooms.

now, after two and a half years of loving both of them with all your heart, you’re carrying another piece of this family inside of you.

when you finally tell gyeong-seok, your heart pounds in your chest. you don’t know how he’ll react, if he’s even thought about having more children.

the moment the words leave your lips, his eyes widen before softening, hands reaching out to hold your face.

“we’re having a baby?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.

you nod, swallowing hard.

“we are.”

the man's smile is slow, warm, overwhelming. then he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

“i never thought… i thought na-yeon would be my only child.” his hands drop to your stomach, hesitant but tender.

“but now we get to do this together.”

tears burn at your eyes as he presses his forehead against yours. this is real. this is happening.

the two of you decide to tell na-yeon in the sweetest way possible... a cake! ever since she got treated for her cancer, from the long months of treatment that took away so many normal childhood joys, she’s been obsessed with desserts.

every time she gets to have something sweet, her entire face lights up, as if making up for all the times she couldn’t.

the cake is simple but meaningful. on the top, in soft pink frosting, the words read: you’re going to be a big sister!

na-yeon, now four years old, claps her hands excitedly when she sees the cake, but her little brow furrows as she tries to read the words.

“what’s it say?” she asks, looking between you and gyeong-seok.

you kneel in front of her, taking her small hands in yours.

“it says you’re going to be a big sister, na-yeon.”

the little girl's eyes widen, round and filled with wonder.

“a big sister?”

you nod, biting back the lump in your throat.

“you’re going to have a baby brother or sister.”

for a second, she just stares at you, processing. suddenly, her entire face breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. she throws herself at you, wrapping her little arms around your legs, holding on so tightly it nearly knocks you off balance.

your heart nearly bursts.

she’s happy. she’s really happy.

you bend down, lifting her up into your arms, pressing kisses to her cheeks as she giggles. her small hands cup your face before she pulls back just enough to look at you.

“what are you gonna name it, momma?”

the word stops you in your tracks.

momma.

she’s never called you that before. you’ve never expected her to, never wanted to push her into something she wasn’t ready for. here she is, looking at you with those trusting, loving eyes, calling you the one thing you never realized you were waiting to hear.

your arms tighten around her as tears slip down your cheeks.

“we’ll pick a name together, baby,” you whisper.

gyeong-seok steps forward, wrapping his arms around both of you, kissing the top of na-yeon’s head before resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you three so much,” he murmurs.

masterlist

[empressdede]

The Secretary - 10

Previous. Next

CHAPTER TEN

Serena didn’t waste any time.

As soon as she left the locker room, she made a beeline for Roman’s private office.

Her heart was pounding, frustration burning in her chest. She had spent years proving she was good enough, and now, just because she was close to Roman, people thought she was only here because of him?

Hell. No.

When she reached the door, she didn’t hesitate—she knocked once before pushing it open.

Roman was sitting at his desk, but as soon as he saw her, his brows furrowed. “Serena?”

She shut the door behind her. “We need to talk.”

Roman sat up straight, immediately giving her his full attention. “What’s wrong?”

Serena took a breath, trying to steady herself. “Do people actually think I’m getting special treatment because of you?”

Roman’s expression darkened. “Who said that?”

Serena crossed her arms. “Charlotte.”

Roman exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Figures.”

Serena scoffed. “So it’s true? People are actually saying this?”

Roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “People are always gonna talk, Serena. They see me close to someone, and they assume things. It’s not new.”

Serena shook her head. “That’s not fair.”

Roman’s gaze softened. “I know.”

Serena let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “I’ve worked too hard for this, Roman. And I won’t have people thinking I’m only here because I’m with you.”

Roman nodded slowly, studying her. “So what are you saying?”

Serena hesitated.

Because she knew what she was afraid of—what she had always been afraid of.

That being with Roman would overshadow everything she had built. That people wouldn’t see her as her own person anymore.

And now, those fears were coming true.

She sighed, dropping into the chair across from him. “I don’t know.”

Roman leaned back, his gaze never leaving hers. “You thinking about ending this?”

Serena’s stomach dropped. “No.”

Roman’s expression didn’t change. “Because if you want out, you need to say it now.”

Serena looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest.

Because this wasn’t just a fling for him. He wouldn’t fight her on it if she wanted to walk away, but he was making it very clear—this was real.

And she needed to choose it.

She exhaled slowly. “I don’t want out.”

Roman nodded once, like he had already known her answer. “Good.”

Serena sighed. “But this is still messy.”

Roman smirked, leaning forward again. “Serena, we were always gonna be messy. You knew that.”

Serena groaned, covering her face. “I hate you.”

Roman chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

Serena dropped her hands. “So what do we do?”

Roman shrugged. “We do what we’ve been doing. We let people talk. Because at the end of the day, your work speaks for itself.”

Serena exhaled. “And if it doesn’t?”

Roman’s expression darkened again. “Then we shut them up.”

Serena blinked. “I feel like that’s not exactly professional.”

Roman smirked. “What? You think I’d let anyone disrespect my woman and get away with it?”

Serena felt way too many things at once at those words.

She swallowed. “I hate when you say things like that.”

Roman just grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Serena groaned again.

This man was impossible.

But she knew one thing for sure.

She wasn’t walking away.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Roman was not letting this slide.

Charlotte could talk all she wanted—he was used to people running their mouths about him. But dragging Serena into it? Questioning her credibility?

Nah. That wasn’t happening.

And if he was going to confront Charlotte, he was bringing backup.

Which is how he found himself standing outside the women’s locker room, arms crossed, while Naomi gave him an unimpressed look.

“So let me get this straight,” Naomi said, tilting her head. “You dragged me all the way over here just so I can help you check Charlotte?”

Roman nodded. “Pretty much.”

Naomi scoffed. “Boy, you do not need me for this.”

Roman smirked. “No, but it’s more fun when you’re involved.”

Naomi rolled her eyes, but she was already pushing the door open.

Inside, Charlotte was standing near her locker, scrolling through her phone.

Naomi didn’t waste time. “Yo, Flair.”

Charlotte glanced up, her smirk already forming. But when she noticed who was standing beside Naomi, the smirk faltered for just a second.

Roman stepped forward, his expression completely unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Charlotte arched a brow. “About what?”

Naomi scoffed. “Girl, don’t play dumb. You know exactly what.”

Charlotte sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her hip. “Let me guess—this is about Serena?”

Roman didn’t blink. “You got something to say about her, say it to me.”

Charlotte’s smirk returned, but there was something uneasy about it now.

“I was just making an observation,” she said smoothly. “People talk, Roman. And when they see you getting close to someone, they start making connections.”

Roman tilted his head, his jaw tightening. “Let me make something very clear.”

Charlotte actually straightened, sensing the shift in his tone.

Roman stepped closer, his voice dangerously low. “Serena got her job because she earned it. Not because of me. And I don’t ever want to hear you—or anyone else—imply otherwise.”

Charlotte crossed her arms. “It’s not my fault if people assume things.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. “And it’s not our fault you feel the need to run your mouth about business that ain’t yours.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Please. It’s wrestling. People talk. It’s not that serious.”

Roman took another step forward, his presence commanding.

“I don’t care what people talk about,” he said, his voice firm. “But if I ever hear you disrespect Serena again, we’re gonna have a real problem.”

Charlotte’s smirk finally disappeared.

Naomi smirked in satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Roman didn’t wait for a response. He just turned and walked out, Naomi right behind him.

As soon as they stepped into the hallway, Naomi grinned. “Damn, I love when you get all scary.”

Roman smirked. “That’s the point.”

Naomi bumped his shoulder. “You really care about her, huh?”

Roman didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

Naomi smiled knowingly. “Good.”

And for the first time all day, Roman felt like he had finally shut everyone up.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Late post but I hope you guys enjoy. 😭🫶🏾 Charlotte a pain huh? 😔

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[ghostlynightpanda]

Hi! Can I have a request for Soshiro Hoshina x fem! Reader? (angst with good ending?)

Where the reader has been pushing him away or strictly focusing her duties rather than confessing her feelings for him? They both are friends but the reader falls in love with him and starts to avoid these feelings for him. Because the reader was insecure and thinks Hoshina deserves someone better than reader.

Unspoken Truths

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

Synopsis: Haunted by insecurities, you begin to distance yourself from Hoshina, convinced he deserves someone better—someone stronger, someone more worthy. But when Hoshina refuses to let you push him away, you're forced to confront the truth: that to him, there was never anyone better than you.

Warnings/content: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader, 2.642 words

You slam your blade against the training dummy, sweat dripping down your forehead as you force yourself to keep going. One more strike. One more perfect movement. If you can just keep pushing yourself harder, maybe you'll drown out the thoughts that have been tormenting you for weeks.

"Oi, you trying to kill that thing or what?"

The voice is unmistakable. Hoshina Soshiro.

Your grip tightens on your weapon, but you don't turn around. You don't have to. You already know the easy grin he's wearing, the casual way he holds his sword like it weighs nothing, the sharp eyes that never miss a thing.

"You're training too hard," he continues, stepping closer. "Even for you."

"I'm fine," you reply, too quickly, too stiffly.

His brows furrow. Just a little. Most people wouldn't catch it, but you've known Hoshina long enough to recognize when something unsettles him.

"Lately, you've been all work, no fun," he muses, resting his weapon against his shoulder. "What happened to my favorite sparring partner who actually talks back?"

The words should make you laugh. Should make you roll your eyes and throw some teasing remark his way, like you always used to.

But instead, your stomach twists. Because you can't do this anymore. Not when every second spent near him makes your chest ache. Not when you've started seeing him as more than just your friend, more than just the vice-captain who always has your back. And definitely not when your heart decided, against all reason, that it belongs to him.

So you do the only thing you can. You take a step back. "I have work to do," you say flatly, turning away. "I'll see you later, Hoshina."

You don't give him a chance to respond. You can't. Because if you stay a second longer, you're afraid he'll see the truth in your eyes.

And Hoshina Soshiro deserves better than that. Better than you.

You tell yourself that distance is the right choice. That if you just keep your head down, keep working, keep your focus on the mission, this unbearable ache in your chest will fade.

But it doesn't. If anything, it gets worse. No matter how much you try to ignore it, Hoshina is everywhere.

His voice carries across the training grounds, his laughter effortlessly cutting through the tension of your days. He calls your name too often, teases you too easily, looks at you too closely. Every time you lock eyes with him, something inside you cracks a little more.

You feel too much—too much admiration for the way he moves, too much warmth at how he trusts you in battle, too much longing for something you have no right to want.

It's suffocating.

And then come the insecurities. The whispering thoughts that creep in when you're alone, when exhaustion strips away your defenses.

He deserves someone better.

Someone who isn't constantly struggling to prove themselves. Someone stronger, brighter—someone who can match him step for step without hesitation. Maybe someone like Captain Ashiro.

The logical part of your brain reminds you that they're just friends—a captain and her vice-captain. But you're not just logical. You have insecurities, like anyone else. And those insecurities whisper, show you, convince you that Captain Ashiro would fit with him so much better than you ever could.

You've always been confident in your abilities, but this… this is different. This is a battlefield you don't know how to fight on. So you make a decision.

You push him away.

You train harder, volunteer for more missions, avoid lingering in the same space as him for too long. When he tries to get you to spar, you decline. When he jokes with you, you give him short, clipped answers. When he looks at you like he's trying to figure something out, you look away. It's the only way to protect yourself.

To protect him.

Because if he ever found out the truth—if he ever realized what you felt—he would never let it go. And you're not strong enough to handle that. Not when you already know how this ends. 

With you, watching him from a distance.

And Hoshina Soshiro, falling for someone else. Someone better.

— — — — — — — — — 

Hoshina isn't an idiot.

You know this better than anyone. He's sharp, always has been—on the battlefield, in training, even in casual conversation. It's why you should have known that avoiding him wouldn't work forever. At first, he lets it slide. He doesn't push when you brush off his teasing, doesn't press when you cut conversations short. But Hoshina Soshiro is nothing if not persistent.

And now, he's watching you.

You feel it every time you step onto the training grounds. Every time you sit across from him in meetings. Every time you pretend not to notice the way he lingers just a second too long after missions, as if waiting for you to say something—anything—that would tell him what's wrong.

But you don't.

And it frustrates him.

It shows in the way he tests you, upping the difficulty in sparring sessions, calling your name just to see if you'll flinch. It's in the little frowns he gives when you answer him with one-word replies, in the way his usual laid-back tone shifts—still teasing, still light, but with something underneath it. Something careful. Something searching.

But finally comes the breaking point. 

It happens on a mission—an ambush, an unexpected wave of kaiju that leaves the entire unit scrambling. You hold your own, as always, but the enemy is relentless. A misstep, a delayed dodge—pain blooms sharp and hot along your side.

You barely register the injury before Hoshina is there, cutting through the chaos like he was made for it. His blades sing through the air, his movements precise, deadly. He's by your side in an instant, pressing a hand to your wound with a grip far gentler than you expect.

"Stay down," he orders, voice tight. "You're done for this fight."

You shake your head. "I can still—"

"I said, stay down."

You freeze. This isn't his usual easygoing drawl. This is anger. Not the reckless, fiery kind. No, this is something colder—controlled, deliberate. It simmers beneath his words, in the way his jaw clenches, in the sharp edge to his next breath.

When the battle is over, when the rest of the unit regroups, Hoshina doesn't leave your side. Even as medics check you over, even as you insist that you're fine, his arms stay crossed, his gaze dark and unreadable. And when you finally stand, when you try to slip away with the others, he stops you, gripping your wrist.

"We need to talk."

And for the first time in weeks, you don't think you can run from him. You knew this was coming.

Hoshina isn't the type to let things fester—especially not when it comes to someone he cares about. And yet, as you stand before him, away from the others, away from any excuse to escape, you feel like a trapped animal. The air between you is thick, heavy with something you don't want to name.

His grip on your wrist is loose now, but he doesn't let go. Not yet. Instead, he studies you, his sharp eyes scanning your face like he's trying to piece together a puzzle that shouldn't exist in the first place. "You gonna tell me what's going on," he starts, voice even, "or do I have to start guessing?"

You force a breath through your nose, willing yourself to stay composed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hoshina huffs out a laugh—but there's no humor in it. "That's funny, 'cause last time I checked, we were friends. Y'know, the kind that actually talks to each other." His voice dips lower. "So why the hell have you been actin' like I'm some stranger you can't even look at?"

You swallow hard. "I've been busy."

"Bullshit."

The word lands heavier than it should. Maybe because Hoshina doesn't curse often—not like this, not at you. It shakes something in your chest, cracks through the carefully built walls you've spent weeks reinforcing.

But you can't let them fall. "I don't know what you want me to say," you mutter, staring at the ground. "Nothing's wrong."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?" His voice is sharper now, the frustration finally surfacing. "Did I do something? Say something?"

"No," you say quickly, too quickly. "It's not you."

"Then what is it?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because how do you say it? How do you tell him that it hurts to be near him? That every second spent at his side only makes it worse? How do you tell Hoshina Soshiro—the man who has always stood tall, always exuded confidence, always carried himself like he knows exactly who he is—that you don't feel worthy of standing beside him?

His fingers tighten around your wrist for a brief second before he exhales, letting his hand drop away. His voice, when he speaks again, is quieter. "Y'know," he says, "I ain't stupid. I can tell when someone's running from something."

You clench your jaw. "I'm not running."

"Then look at me."

You don't. Not until he steps closer, until he's right in front of you, close enough that you can't ignore the warmth radiating from him, the intensity in his gaze.

"Look at me, dammit," he repeats, softer this time.

And you do. Because you're weak when it comes to him. No matter how much you've tried to avoid it, this was always going to happen.

Your breath is shaky as you finally force the words out. "Because you deserve better than me, Hoshina."

Silence. A second stretches into eternity.

His brows knit together, confusion flickering across his face before something else takes over—something unreadable, something deep and unwavering. "…The hell did you just say?"

Your throat feels tight and your eyes are starting to burn. "You heard me."

Hoshina blinks, then lets out a disbelieving laugh—except it isn't really a laugh at all. More like a breath of frustration, edged with something that almost sounds like hurt. "Unbelievable," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face before fixing you with a look so serious it makes your stomach twist. "You really think that, huh?"

You force yourself to nod. "I know that."

"Then you really don't know me at all." His voice is steady, but there's something else there—something that makes your heart clench.

And before you can say another word, Hoshina steps even closer, close enough that you can't ignore the weight of his next words. 

"I don't want 'better.' I want you."

Your breath catches. And just like that, the walls you built start to crumble. You feel like the world has just stopped.

His words ring in your ears, over and over, unraveling every excuse, every reason you've clung to for why this could never happen.

"I don't want 'better.' I want you."

There's no hesitation in his voice, no doubt in his stance. Just Hoshina Soshiro, standing in front of you, looking at you like you're the only thing that matters.

You shake your head, stepping back out of instinct, out of fear. "You don't mean that."

Hoshina's brows knit together, frustration flickering across his face. "The hell I don't."

"You don't—" Your voice cracks, and you hate it, hate how vulnerable you feel under his gaze. "You don't get it, Hoshina. You're—" You pause, searching for the words, but they feel heavy on your tongue. "You're everything. And I'm just—"

"Just what?" His tone is softer now, but no less firm. "Go on. Say it."

You swallow hard. "I'm just me."

Silence.

Then, Hoshina exhales, slow and measured, as if he's choosing his next words carefully. "Y'know," he starts, voice lower now, "for someone so damn stubborn, you really don't see yourself clearly."

You don't say anything. You can't.

Hoshina tilts his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "Do you know why I trust you so much?"

Your hands clench into fists. "Because we're comrades."

"That's not it." He takes a step forward, closing the distance you tried to put between you. "I trust you because you've got my back. Always. I trust you because you fight like hell, because you don't hesitate when it matters, because you're one of the strongest people I know."

His words hit harder than any blade.

"You think I deserve someone 'better'?" His voice is barely above a whisper now, but it holds weight. "Then tell me—who's better than the person who's been by my side through everything?"

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because he's looking at you like you hung the damn stars. Like every excuse you've made is nothing but noise. Like he's been waiting for you to just see what's been in front of you this whole time.

Your chest feels tight, your heart hammering against your ribs, and you hate that you're trembling, hate that you're so scared to believe him.

An then, Hoshina smiles. Soft. Sure. Unshakable. Finally, reaches for you. Slowly, like he's giving you the chance to pull away. But you don't. You can't. Not when his fingers brush against yours, not when the warmth of his touch grounds you in a way nothing else ever has.

"You don't gotta say anything right now," he murmurs. "But just… stop runnin', yeah?"

Your breath catches as you realise, this is real. This is Hoshina Soshiro choosing you. And for the first time, you wonder, if maybe, you're allowed to choose him too.

His fingers linger against yours, warm and steady, a silent reassurance that he's not going anywhere.

You take a shaky breath. "I don't… I don't know how to do this."

Hoshina chuckles, soft and easy. "Yeah? Well, lucky for you, I'm patient."

You shake your head, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at your lips. "You don't act like it."

"Hey, I waited for you to get your head out of your ass, didn't I?" His grin is teasing, but his eyes—they're serious."I've been waiting, y'know. For you to let me in."

You look down, where your fingers are still lightly touching, and finally—finally—you curl yours around his. Just a little. Just enough. "I was scared," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you deserved someone… more."

Hoshina hums thoughtfully. "More what?"

"More everything. Stronger. Smarter. Someone who…" You hesitate, then sigh. "Someone who wouldn't be afraid to tell you how they feel."

His grip tightens, just a little. „That's funny," he murmurs. "'Cause the person I fell for? They're plenty strong. And smart. And stubborn as hell." He tilts his head, voice dropping into something softer. "And right now, they're telling me exactly how they feel."

Your heart stumbles. There's no more running. No more hiding behind excuses, no more pretending that your feelings aren't there, that they don't matter. Because Hoshina sees all of you. And he still wants you anyway.

You take a breath, steadying yourself. Then, finally—you look him in the eyes. "I like you," you confess, voice small but certain. "I've liked you for a long time."

"Yeah," Hoshina grins, voice warm, teasing, filled with something deeper. "I know."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Of course you do."

His laughter is easy, genuine. And when he tugs you just a little closer, thumb brushing over the back of your hand, you don't pull away.

Because for the first time in a long time—you're not scared. You don't know what happens next.

But as Hoshina squeezes your hand, as he smiles at you like you're something worth holding onto, you realize, that taking a step forward doesn’t need to be scary. 

Masterlist

[kowaindar0u]

//

going to putter around for a bit while my phone charges because i just watched in horror as i got the notfication for it being at 19% and then IMMEDIATELY go down to 8, 7, 6% in rapid procession it was mortifying........ and then i'm gonna try and do some more replies!!

we will see how much i get done tonight tho cause i'm kind of in a tizzy (??)

[shawtuzi]

here’s a random best friend!eren drabble bc im bored

cw include: black coded reader, some drug usage (weed), unprotected sex, backshots, sex standing up, sex onna floorrr, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, some choking [ inspo vids: 1 2 3 ]

“you sure about this y/n? i don’t want things to get weird . . .” eren mumbled, his hands fidgeting with the loops on his jeans—something he always did when he was nervous. you just giggled, your mind too cloudy and in a horny daze to care that your about to fuck your childhood best friend.

you were sitting at the edge of your bed with eren standing right in front of you, his large frame towering over yours. his breath hitched when you grabbed onto the hem on his jeans, your chin now resting on his lower stomach. you looked at him through your freshly done lashes, your eyes low n’ red from the blunt you previously smoked together.

“i jus’ wanna see what’s got those girls all crazy about you ren,” you practically purred, smirking when you saw his teeth clamp onto his bottom lip. you could feel the firm bulge in his jeans, your manicured nails trailing up and down the length of it.

“oooo s-shit, f-fuck okay yeah get on all fours.”

sometime later….

“o-oh my goddd, f-fuck erennnn!” your arms flailed behind you to push as eren’s stomach, but him being the dickhead he is, just grabbed your wrists and held you still. he had you bent over the bed, your feet pushing up to your tippy toes to keep up with his brutal thrusts.

“no no don’t run mama—fuck, jus’ take it. cmon fuck me back, fuck renny back,” you pitifully shook your head, salty tears seeping into your comforter.

in all the years you’ve known eren you weren’t aware of the fact that he had such a dirty mouth. filthy praises and promises were flying past his kiss swollen lips left and right, so much so it was making you even more dizzy than you already were.

“who knew my best friend had such a pretty lil’ pussy,” eren breathlessly chuckled, his tongue swiping against his bottom lip as he admired the milky white ring of your essence coating the base of his cock. “n-no eren, too fuckin’ deep s-shit!” you cried, legs trembling as eren pushed all of his weight into your backside. he swiveled his hips, determined to reach that special spot deep inside you.

“heh, now y’see why those girls w-won’t leave me alone, dick is too fuckin’ good ain’t it mama,” eren groaned, smacking your ass harshly. eren wasn’t the best at a lot of things, not that he even really tried to be, but one thing he knew he was good at was beating up some lucky girls guts. sure he wasn’t slanging nine inches, but don’t get it twisted he knew how to use his six and a half inches very, very well. after all it’s not about the size of the wave, but the motion of the ocean or whatever the fuck.

he pulled you up by the neck, keeping you still against his chest. your legs trembled, your hands pushing back softly against eren’s thighs to steady yourself. “this is my favorite way to fuck, it’s so fun watching girls try to run just for me to fuck them to the floor,” he finished off his sentence by licking the shell of your ear, grinning when he felt your body shiver.

“you’re—hah! you’re s-sick ren.”

“shittt say that again baby,” eren groaned, sliding halfway out before slamming back inside. his free hand found purchase on your breast, the other hand squeezing lightly at your neck. “you’re *thrust* so fucking *thrust* s-sick eren!” you gasped out, your hands flinging behind you to tug at eren’s disheveled bun.

all a sudden black dots clouded your vision and your ears began to ring—well this was definitely new. “fuck, you squirtin’ mama?” eren was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, his other hand still securely wrapped around your throat. he fucked you through your orgasm, hearts forming at how soaked his thighs were now. he’s never had a squirter before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave this life after you two were done!

“i *hiccup* didn’t even k-know i could do that,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back when eren started up a steady rhythm. your pussy felt so sensitive, yet each time he pulled out you wanted him back inside that instant. your legs felt like jello and you knew any moment they were bound to give up.

you took a shaky step towards your bed but eren just followed, his lips upturning into a smirk. now comes his favorite part.

“r-ren okay! okay i get ittt,” you sobbed out, gasping as your knees met the plushness of your carpet. eren remained inside you the entire time, wasting no time as he pushed your face into the carpet until your back with positioned into the perfect arch. as crazy as it sounded each slap of his balls against your clit felt like electricity shooting through your veins, causing nothing but moans and babbles to slip past your drooling lips.

“fuck m’gonna cum mama, get ready,” with four final thrusts eren emptied himself inside you, coating your walls in his sticky warmth. your body slumped more into the carpet, your eyes fluttering shut. eren pulled out slowly, laughing when your lower half fell with a dull thud.

“i *sniffle* see your point,” you whimpered, your back arching when your clit rubbed against the carpet. eren grinned, sitting back on his knees before gently turning your body over. he tapped your thigh softly, “push it out . . . please.”

you rolled your eyes, not looking forward the even bigger mess it would make, but you did as you were told. eren let out a long breath through his nose as he watch he cum drip out of you in thick globs. he peered at you through his lashes—

“we should, um, do this again sometime.”

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, cunnīlingus, praise, dirty talk, fįngering, secret freak nanami, hair pulling, mdni.

nanami’s always a gentleman - especially whenever he’s between your legs.

he’s the kind of guy who never forgets his manners. at least, he tries not to. as he’s sprawling both of your plushy thighs apart with a single hand, he’s bringing tender kiss after kiss toward your skin. “may i?” he’d breathlessly murmur as the tip of his nose merely brushes itself down your sopping core. browned, droopy eyes with enlarged pupils that were practically heart-shaped openly leered between the arc of your legs. he’s watching - studying you, silently admiring how your chest heaves up and down after each gasping breath. you’re impatient, so impatient, and a smile creases against his lips once you give a wordless yet needy response of ‘mhm.’

“ah, ah. words, sweetheart. kindly use ‘em for me,” he clicks his tongue, and you let off a sweet, shrilling whimper at the immediate feeling of nanami delicately blowing against your cunt. the cool air that set between your legs from his lips had you arching upward with your toes shamelessly already curling.

fuck.

nanami brought the pad of his thumb near your throbbing opening that was practically drooling before he gave it a teasing kiss. a tiny, popping squelch sobs straight from your sopping pussy and you whined, pouting once nanami licked near your nub before abruptly departing. as his lips hungrily pursed—he glanced back up at you before tilting his head. “oh, i know she’s wet,” he hums, averting his eyes toward your soddened folds before peeking back up at you. “but don’t just let her speak for you. i wanna hear my pretty wet wife too.”

besides his manners, nanami also loved another thing while being between your legs - wearing his reading glasses.

and oh, he just loved the pretty ‘lil whimpers that would slide past your quivering lips as the cold, squared lens would press against your pussy. every time - you’d fog up his glasses while you were uncontrollably rutting your hips against his face.

once he hears that cute, defeated, “p- pleaseee,” leave from your pouty, glittery lips, that’s all it took for nanami to finally dig in.

again, nanami kento’s always a gentleman.

on the other hand, his mouth.. his tongue though? a little more on the dirty side.

constantly - he’s just so hungry.

his lips were so quick at how they just cupped ‘round your nub, and you hear the beginning, loud sucks that echoed through each wall. the first sucks were always the loudest, and you’re gnawing on words that desperately - direly tried to leave your raw throat. instead, though, they just sound inaudible and you’re just whimpering the same repeated cacophonies of ‘kentoooo’ — ‘hngh-’ — or ‘fuck’ ‘s.

as your legs tremor within his firm hold, nanami starts to lave his sticky, pink tongue back ‘n forth until he eventually pried out those adorable squeals from you. he presses his face into your cunt, groaning once your legs mindlessly lock around his neck. “f- fuuuck, ‘ken, keep licking there- oh, my go- hngh-” and with teary, half-open eyes you stared as he’s jerking his head from side to side.

he’s like an animal - feasting between your thighs so viciously to the point where he sometimes forgets to even breathe.

“pretty please kento,” he adds for you, delving his tongue further inside your puffed slit before it swirls in a hypnotic direction. it goes ‘round ‘n round before stretching its way near your g-spot. that earns a small ‘ooh!’ from you as you squeeze your eyes shut. nanami’s tastebuds forevermore salivated for you, and he looked right up at you - pulling his syrupy lips away before swiping his thumb across the crack of his blushed lips. “talk to me, sweetheart.”

“hah- pretty, pretty … pleaseee kento,” you drag your words, letting off a sweet content ‘ah’ once you feel the tangled knot in your stomach unravel. his tongue was so sloppy, curling every which way between your folds before popping right back out. nanami grumbles against your pussy with his blond brows furrowed. the glimmering sleek that strings down his chin sticks against your thighs like constant dripping honey.

you tasted far sweeter than honey though - at least, in nanami’s opinion.

nanami relaxes his jaw — hearing your impatient, wanton cries for more before he gives the center of your cunt its nth kiss. “thaaat’s right- pretty please,” his voice lowers as he praises you, pitching deeper and deeper until he feels your cute ‘lil pulse in his mouth. nanami continued to lie on his chest, pushing the beige bridge of his reading glasses back with the tip of his middle finger. “mhm, such a perfect view,” he purred hoarsely, bringing two thick fingers to slide their way inside of you. he’s staring at your pussy closely, his vision seemingly even more clear after each blink.

within seconds, both digits end up disappearing, and internally, your tummy dips oh-so cutely. his fingers were stubby ‘n thick, making your toes curl even more as every minuscule inch prods into your wet core. as nanami’s tongue kept flicking against your sobbing slit, you’re letting off whine after whine. “heh.. this is probably my favorite chapter,” and as he speaks, your slick continued to fog up both lens of his glasses. “but ah- every great story comes to an end and you’re just about at your climax, right honey?”

“ ‘ken, kentooo-” you’d squeal, each babble of his name turning more breathless. your mind felt like it was just turning into mush. his tongue swirled its way around the spongy textures of your cunt as you felt both of his lengthy fingers pummel their way inside of you. by this point, it felt like you were just about to sink into the mattress.

you felt like you were being pulled in — he’s still maintaining a grip on one of your thighs, but fuck.

“ ‘m gonna … cum,” and as you spoke those long, awaited words, nanami meets your gaze. even a few glimpses of him between your thighs were enough to make you pulse at a rapid speed. his slick hair - it’s usually so well kept and neat or handsomely parted. now, it’s ruffled with blond strands sticking against his forehead with the help of his sweat. a hand of yours finds its way through his hair, roughly yanking near his soft roots. your eager tug at his hair was so hard that his nose is just tickling against your clit.

you felt a smile stretch across his lips as he’s still relishing in your fervor. you were right there … right fuckin’ there and at the brink of your very edge. from head to toe, your body felt like it was on fire - just sizzling with anticipation at a scorching temperature of a hundred degrees.

“c’mon then, sweetheart,” he throatily rasps, wetly pulling his twinned digits from your pussy. from top to bottom, you coated his fingers with your slick that had such a carnal-like shine to it. as his ruby, swollen lips kept latching against your folds, he grumbled at the arising friction in his slacks. “make a mess in my mouth, go on, pretty- give it t’ me please.”

“cum- ‘m cumming!” you’d shriek, chewing each high-pitched vowel and syllable that mewled from your lips. the pool that stirred into the inner depths of your stomach was finally at its peak. you slouch back in jubilant pleasure, loosening your grip on his fleecy strands as his tongue nibbles against your convulsing bud. your body’s just one single word - hot, and you felt like you’d just exploded right then and there. all nerves in your body violently erupt as you’re riding out your orgasm on his tongue with wobbly, numb legs.

the patterns of your breathing slowed significantly, and nanami whispered out husky, ‘thank you’ ‘s as his lips were trying to shower your dripping cunt with appreciation kisses. it’s almost sweet, in a racy way. the once steady beat of your heart felt like it was preparing to pound straight out of your chest, and you flopped your head back against the fluffed pillow that lay underneath you. nanami brings a hand toward your pussy, giving it a soft, praising pat.

your essence sloppily paints all against his palm and he flashes you a sheepish, pussy-drunk grin. “mhm, thank you, sweet girl,” and you honestly didn’t even know what he was thanking you for. ‘till the very end, nanami never forgot his manners, including at the moments where you’ve just drenched his entire face from nose to chin with your treacly slick. “and, hah- thank you,” his bleary, downcast eyes dart towards your slobbering pussy. from the hood of your clit to the very opening near the bottom, you’re soaked - cascading a pretty, wet stream of your shimmery wetness.

with a sticky ‘mwah,’ — nanami gives the center of your pussy its final concluding kiss, still hearing your shallow breaths from above as you’re trying to get over your overwhelming high. everything felt like it was spinning in circles, and the cold, glassy lens of nanami’s glasses pressing against your folds snapped you straight back into lewd reality. “think i’ll rate this book, five stars.”

and as you let off a surprised moan once he’s suddenly turning you over to lie on your back, you heard the familiar ‘zip’ of nanami’s slacks. breathily, he pants as he grinds his angry bulge against your bare cunt, sucking his teeth as you instinctively arched for him.

“fuck… sweetheart. think it’s time for the epilogue. now bend just a liiiittle more for kento, atta girl.”

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.” 

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin. 

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

[odoraful]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 (𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬)

it's date night and the boys react to you wearing a new dress

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel/caleb x gn!reader; established relationship; complete & utter fluff; compliments & showers of affection; dresses are described (i had dress references that i thought would suit the boys' vibes hehe, but feel free to picture whatever dress you want!); ~0.5k words per scene

⟡ a/n: my first time writing for caleb GASP! it was very fun to write him but, admittedly, i don't own all of his cards (the struggles of f2p 😞), nor have i done all of his memoria/other content, so i hope i was still able to do him justice! 🥺

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ⟡

Subconsciously, Zayne rose from his seat as soon as he saw you. His body somehow told him that appreciating you whilst sitting down was a horrible injustice. It was true, though. Standing gave him the proper vantage point to admire your outfit. The way the smooth white material draped around your curves and flowed down to your ankles, the fabric turning sheer near the hem. Blue watercolor-like flowers were scattered across the dress—the softness of it all made it seem like you were a walking dream. A silvery necklace rested against your collarbones, matching the teardrop gemstones that dangled from your ears.

You were still in the middle of adjusting your earrings when you walked out, not paying any mind to the effects your entrance had on your enamored partner.

Zayne’s lips parted, the air seemingly sucked from him. He blinked multiple times as if he were trying to see whether you were an illusion.

It was no trick conjured by his mind. You were real, you were his, and you were stunning.

Finished with your earrings, you looked up at him with a smile. It took every ounce of will for Zayne’s knees not to buckle and fall back onto the chair.

“I’m ready to go now,” you said, walking over to him, your heels giving a dull click against the hard floors.

“It’ll be a bit colder tonight,” was all Zayne could muster saying with most of his thoughts entangled by your appearance.

Your face immediately fell into a pout. With a disappointed sigh, you hung your head.

“Alright, I’ll go get something to cover up…”

Before your feet could even move to walk away, Zayne’s hands snaked around your waist. A short gasp fell out of you.

Beneath the thin fabric of your dress, you could feel the press of his cool fingertips. He held you in place with a firm grip, his body flush with yours. His lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his closeness leaving shivers up your spine.

“T-to bring something to wear on top of my dress? You just said that it would be cold.”

His brows lifted, realizing the misunderstanding he caused. “I apologize. What I meant was I’ll bring my jacket for you to wear if it gets too chilly.”

Your stomach fluttered, though you didn’t know if it was due to the proximity of his body, his low voice, or his offer to keep you warm during the night out. You turned around in his grasp, meeting his gaze.

“There is no need for you to hide it beneath extra clothing if you want to show it off. You look beautiful in that new dress, my love.”

Now you knew exactly what caused those tingles in your stomach.

The direct compliments Zayne tended to give always affected you deeply. Combined with the nickname that rolled so effortlessly off his tongue, you were the one left entangled now. And he would admire you a thousand times more just to see that expression on your face.

”Perhaps I should change the color of my tie to match.”

“Dr Zayne wanting to do couple matching?” You feigned a gasp of shock, bracing a hand against his chest. “How unheard of!”

Zayne breathed a fond and quiet laugh. “Yes, I’ve been learning a lot of new things when I’m with you.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 ⟡

“My, my, my,” Sylus sounded out as you walked into the kitchen. He chuckled in astonishment, the resonant sound warming your senses. “Don’t you look absolutely divine this evening?”

Sylus washed his hands at the sink and dried them off with a towel. He was in the middle of preparing dinner for the two of you when you made your grand reveal. Naturally, he had to stop everything to give you the attention you deserved.

“Do you notice anything different?” you asked innocently, hands tucked behind your back.

Sylus smirked. He rested his chin on his hand, indulging your theatrics.

“Hmm, let me guess… is it your hair?” he began, reaching out to tuck a strand behind your ear.

You tempered your expression, trying to remain neutral despite the corners of your lips curving upwards.

“Or… maybe your makeup?” he trailed his hand down to your cheek, lightly brushing against your skin with his thumb.

Sylus’ hand moved to rest at your back, guiding you closer to him. His gaze travelled from your head to your toes. 

“Ah, I know what it is.”

You were wearing an elegant black dress that reached your ankles—certainly fit to be in attendance at a high class function. The bodice resembled a corset, with faux boning running from the square neckline down towards the waist before disappearing before the skirt. Thin black straps tied off in ribbons at your shoulders. A necklace of silver and ruby dazzled under the warm lights of the kitchen. Contrasting with the rest of your outfit, rather than wear a matching pair of shoes, on your feet were your prized fuzzy slippers that you wore around the Onichynus base. Sylus could help but break into a smile.

Tonight’s date was a night-in after all, so comfort would be given number one priority.

“It’s this lovely new dress.” 

His compliment seemed to be amplified by the husk in his voice. You clasped your hands around his neck, pulling him nearer. 

“Correct!” you grinned. “It’s the one you helped me pick out, remember?”

He nodded. Two weeks ago you had gone clothes shopping together and stumbled upon this simple black dress. Sylus saw the way your eyes lingered on it, even after being alarmed by the price tag. You were prepared to say goodbye to it on the clothing rack. Little did you know, Sylus had already signalled to the shop assistant to have it wrapped up and sent to his home. 

“I do,” he answered, drawing small circles at the small of your back with his finger. “It seems we both have good taste.”

Your eyes darted away from his gaze. “I know you’re just making dinner for us, but I wanted to dress up a little.”

There was very little that could make the leader of Onichynus lose his composure, but the shyness on your face was enough to make him weak.

Sylus kissed your forehead. “Trust me when I say this, my dear, the gesture is greatly appreciated.”

He tilted your face upwards. Sincerity brimmed in his crimson gaze as he spoke, 

“You know you can wear whatever you want around me. Whether you dress up or dress down, you always look stunning.”

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 ⟡

Eyes growing wide as porcelain plates, Xavier watched with awe when you exited the bedroom. He’d never seen you wear this dress. He didn’t even know where to look first.

The white fabric ruffled in two tiers around your thighs, with loose frills lining the neckline, accentuating your decolletage. It was shoulderless, with long sheer white sleeves that extended from the dress. To complement its shorter length, you wore white lace socks that ended below your knees.

It was the embodiment of flirty and sweet, only made more so by the twirl you gave him.

“You got a new dress,” Xavier observed.

He walked over to meet you, a smile blooming across his face as you toyed with the ruffles at your neckline.

“Mhm, I did! How do I look?”

Xavier ran his fingers down the sleeve, feeling the material. He trailed the length of your arm, the light touch leaving goosebumps in its wake, until he reached your hand.

“The color is just like starlight.”

Lifting your hand up to his lips, he gave your knuckles a tender kiss. It was almost a scene from a storybook—a prince boldly showcasing his affection for his lover. Though, rather than a castle, you were standing in his apartment on his blue striped rug. It didn’t matter. For you, it was a fairytale nonetheless.

“You look radiant,” he said, looking up at you with admiration and… something else.

Xavier straightened himself and inhaled. Unexpectedly, he leaned over and began unlacing his shoes, taking them off his feet. Your face contorted with confusion. Whatever he was doing now was a stark difference in tone from the previous moment you just shared.

“Xavier… what are you doing?”

He neatly lined his shoes up on the edge of the rug on the wooden floorboards.

“Can we change the date to just staying in?” he asked.

“Huh? Why?”

His answer came in the form of pulling you into a hug and collapsing on the sofa with you. You gasped in surprise. Cupping your face in both his hands, Xavier began to kiss you. Starting from your forehead down to your cheeks. In that fraction of a second each time he pulled away, he eyed you—your expression a mixture of surprise and delight, the way your chest rose and fell in that ruffled dress. He continued his affectionate ambush, his gentle lips leaving your skin warm and rose-colored.

“Xavier!” you cried out, bursting into giggles.

Though you had your hands on his shoulders, you didn’t give much resistance, letting your partner shower you with kisses.

“We’re going to be late for our reservation—mmph!”

He finally reached your lips, slowing his movements, letting himself savor the faint sweetness from the gloss you applied. You too almost got lost, brain clouded by the familiar and tempting sensation. Xavier felt your hands tap his shoulders and he pulled back to find your lips in a pout.

“You know we’re never going to leave if we stay like this.”

Xavier sighed resignedly. “Okay, okay, we’ll go.”

Nodding his head he rested his forehead on your shoulder, as if it took all his strength to move away. “I just couldn’t help it. It’s hard to resist kissing you when you look like that.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ⟡

Being a denizen of an underwater kingdom meant Rafayel had seen many pretty sights in his life. But, none would compare to when he was looking at you. Especially now when you walked into his studio wearing a new dress. His lips curved into a smile, unable to contain the wonder on his face.

The dress was made of a taupe-coloured chiffon with red flowers and olive leaves patterning the fabric. From the open window of his studio, the light breeze made the flowy material flutter around your legs. The waistline ended just below the bust, with a heart-shaped neckline that gave the perfect space for your shell necklace (given as a present from Rafayel himself). Your white sandals tapped against the floorboards, ready for your evening by the beach. 

“Is there a special anniversary I’m forgetting?” Rafayel asked, placing his hands on his hips. “Why am I receiving such a lovely gift?” 

You chuckled, speaking with a playful lilt, “Sometimes there’s no reason for nice things to happen. I just thought I’d try on something new.”

He approached, holding your hands in his. The swirl of violet and pink in his eyes gleamed with splendour. “You look beautiful, like you just stepped out of a painting.”

“You can thank Aunt Talia,” you said. “She helped choose it for me when she visited Linkon.”

Rafayel shrugged, though, there was pride in his voice as he spoke. “It’s easy to pick when you have a perfect muse like yourself.” 

With his hand still in yours, Rafayel stretched his arm outward, creating distance between you two before leading you towards his chest. You twirled into his arms like a ballroom dancer, the skirt of your dress dancing along with you.

He wished he had something to record your laugh in that moment—the pure delight in your voice. Perhaps he could keep it in a seashell for him to hold to his ear whenever he missed you. More of your giggles erupted when he swung you out from him once again. This time, when he pulled you in, he braced an arm around your back, dipping you. 

His face was inches away from yours. He looked at the pink dusting your cheeks, the sparkle on your eyelids, and the giddiness in your smile. The statement remained true. No other sight could compare to you.

Lifting you back to standing position, he kept his arms encircled at your waist.

“The fabric of the dress flows just like water,” he commented. “And the colour compliments you so nicely.”

Rafayel appeared entranced, as if he was staring at a rare artwork sitting in an illustrious gallery. Studying your features with that same painter’s eye. 

“You’re giving me that look again.” You lightly poked the tip of his nose with your index finger. “Am I to be the inspiration for your next piece now?”

He shook his head in amusement. “Cutie, you should see the margins of all my sketchbooks.”

“You’re always an inspiration to me, every second of every day.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ⟡

Waiting for you to come out of your room made Caleb’s stomach flutter in anticipation. It wasn’t dissimilar to the very first time he tried flying. The sudden change in speed and altitude. That momentary weightlessness before everything dropped. He didn’t realise being at your apartment in Linkon City, waiting to see what you were going to wear for the night, would provoke the same feelings as being in a fighter jet. He covered his face with his hand in an act of controlling himself–conscious of the effect you had on him. 

The moment ended when he heard your door click shut. Caleb turned around from staring at the photographs on the wall to finally see you.

At a first glance, the dress was simple–made of a silky material with no embellishments, and two thin straps at the shoulders. However, in the light, your green dress shimmered with iridescence. The gold that shone through the fabric shifted with every step you took towards him, ever changing depending on where the light was hitting you. 

Caleb folded his arms, his eyes shamelessly wandering up and down. A slow and intentional gaze that ensured he could memorize the image he saw before him.

You were practically beaming at him, and his own heart leapt from his chest.

“I don’t recognize this from your wardrobe. Is it new?” His question came out almost breathless. 

“It is, how observant of you,” you chirped. “What do you think?” 

You took one more step closer until he could reach out and feel the material for himself. It was smooth and delicate under his touch. He let it slip off his fingers before looking back at you, completely transfixed. 

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed. The earnesty in his voice made your pulse skip. 

“You know,” Caleb circled around you, hands at his back. It seemed as though he wanted to admire the dress from every angle, “any person in their right mind would want to get close after seeing someone as cute as you.”

Without you realising, he had actually cornered you against your wall of photographs.

He placed his left hand against the wall beside your head, satisfaction plain on his face. You puffed out your cheeks in mock annoyance at Caleb’s sneaky position switching. Only you got to witness this mischievous, boyish side to him. 

“I guess I’ll have to keep a lookout tonight,” he whispered in your ear before kissing you on the cheek.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay right by your side,” you reassured, patting his head. 

“Mmm, that’s good to hear.” He leaned into your touch, lips curved into a soft, nostalgic smile.

“I remember you weren’t too fond of wearing dresses when you were younger.”

“That was a long time ago,” you commented, brushing your fingers through his dark hair to tidy it up. “Things can change.”

He caught your hand in his, interlocking his fingers with yours. Warmth radiated through your palms. 

“Then, I want to see you in more pretty clothes like this,” he said. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow, I’ll get you anything you want.”

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